Obsession With Sincerity
by Neriede
Summary: There are just some feelings you can't escape from, no matter where you run to or how much you try to deny it. Riku's about to realize why he's been so obsessed with making so many Anti Soras... [RikuSora flangst with a twist, ONESHOT, Pre COM & KH2]


This was written a LOOONG time ago. Even so, I'm rather attached to the idea, so I decided to post this and at least have something up here before I finish up a more recent work—it's Axel/Roxas, so if you like this then stay tuned. This particular one-shot (and just so you know, it's going to STAY as a one-shot) is Riku/Sora. Don't like that pairing? Go ahead and flame. It amuses me. Also, I wrote this before I'd played KHII, so it's written from a KHI point of view. The setting is inside the keyhole of Hollow Bastion, after Riku and Sora have closed the door to Kingdom Hearts.

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Obsession With Sincerity

_Throbbing._

_Pulsating._

_Expanding._

_Repulsive._

_Alive._

These were all words to describe the place. It wasn't possible to define what shape the enclosed space took; there was a solidity of some sorts to stand on and eventually if one kept walking they would bump into a barrier. But it didn't seem like it _ended_. It was constantly…moving. Blobs of colors all mushed and blended together; reds, greens, blues, and black, the color scheme enough to make one sick to their stomach if they watched it move from one spot in the endless infinity to another. And you didn't know what you were standing on, couldn't see it, couldn't feel it—walking was like that feeling you got when you accidentally missed the last stair step and your stomach went into your chest.

Most people would take three steps into that place and then throw up. Affixed to the spot where all the color was supposedly coming from was an essentially heart-shaped insignia, a curious keyhole in the middle of it. That was really all there was in the place; just empty space and a keyhole. The place…it reeked of darkness. Riku could _taste _it. Out of all the words that could've been used to explain the place, the one that applied to Riku was _haven_.

The room was oddly cramped, despite feeling so big, and that was just fine with him, who wanted to escape into the smallest, most confining space as possible; being in a room like this made you feel like you couldn't escape. The colors and ground (or lack there of) didn't bother him. If anything they soothed him, having felt, seen…and _done_ worse things. Sitting, legs withdrawn to his chest, and head in his knees: it was a rather feeble position for a person like Riku, but there was no one to see and Riku didn't care.

The atmosphere crackled and sparked and fizzed. The place was reacting to him. Riku hugged his legs closer to himself.

_'Even this place…'_

This dark, little getaway, this godforsaken pocket of revolting space…

It had a pulse, a sort of consciousness, and in an invisible kind of way it was consuming him slowly, like a grip on his heart that choked him, that spread throughout him, engulfing him from the inside out. _This_ was what rally made him reviled. As the saying went…like attracts like. The room fed on darkness, and there was darkness in every heart…any person who stayed in there too long didn't _survive_; the process was too damaging. But for Riku it crackled as if with glee, after only mere moments of his presence.

_Oh my, look at this boy, he's a fine catch: let's rip that delicious heart of his out of his chest and suck it dry, it'll be a feast, a delicious, yummy feast. _

It was yet another smack in the face for Riku, reminding him exactly what it was that he was. Detestable. Practically inhuman, _dark_—that no matter where he went, no matter how inescapable a place he found, he still could not escape from himself. _Even this place_ was not safe—

_'For a person like me…'_

But it did hold the most comfort for him.

Riku was a bundle of mixed emotions at this point. There were things he'd done, things he'd felt…things he wished he could take back. It was funny…he'd wanted so badly to get off that island and now that he was as far away from it as possible, it was the one place he wanted to be. Now that he thought about it, ever since he'd fallen into darkness he hadn't at any one point felt _home_. There were no more games with Tidus and Wakka and his blitzball. He even missed Selphie and Kairi's romantic chats and titters. Gone were the sword fights with Sora, the competitive races, rolling in the sand together wrestling…the beach. Oh, what he wouldn't give to feel the sand between his toes again.

And now it was gone. Was it his fault, if even partially? He felt stupid. While he'd been off in the darkness, Sora had been fighting, still trying to protect his home, while he, plunging into the unknown had left it behind without a second thought, cast it off like a minor annoyance. Would it have made a difference if he'd stayed behind to help and fought alongside the boy?

Even if it wasn't his fault, there were still plenty of other worlds. There were countless other homes that he'd played a large role in destroying. It made him feel disgusted, angry, and _unclean_, knowing hat he had a part in taking away so many lives and ruining even more, all on the whims of his selfish desire to escape his water surrounded prison. How could he have been so _blind_? How could he have not known a heart like Kairi's wouldn't be at the end of a path so dark and hideous?

It almost seemed fitting that it had been in the one place he couldn't compare to: Sora's heart. It was no wonder that Kair's heart had fled to his—Sora's heart was so good and pure…Riku couldn't even bear to think of something like Sora's heart and himself in the same thought.

How much blood was on his hands now? He didn't want to think about it. He wanted to die, wanted his blemished existence, his _wretched_ hands and the things they'd done to disappear. But no, that was to easy of a punishment for him.

And of all the things Riku felt, the one thing he felt the most was _lonely_.

Then, as if on cue, soft footsteps announced the arrival of someone…or something behind him. Slowly, carefully, he turned his head around to see who in their right minds would've come into a place like this.

"Oh." he aid quietly, and his heart began to pound.

It was Sora. Or at least, it looked like Sora. His chest suddenly hurt, like something had wrenched at it. His heart sank, settling into an empty feeling.

_'I must've been lonelier than I thought.'_

It was only Anti-Sora. It was a perfect replica, not shadowy or misty like his first ones had been. At first he'd made them, one after the other, to practice his new dark skill. He'd gotten better quickly, his creations looking more and more like the real thing with each try. Then…he wasn't exactly sure why he'd later gotten so obsessed with making so many of them, just that the reason wasn't because he wanted to practice. No, there another reason, one more compulsive and complex…he just didn't know what it was.

But lately he'd started making them without conscious consent. They just appeared before he realized what he was doing. Riku brushed it off as missing his friends; he would've made ones for Kairi as well, but for that the needed a shadow of hers to manipulate. As soon as he had that, he could make as many of them as he wanted, with or without Kairi's presence, but as Sora was the only one he'd ever made an Anti for, it was Sora to keep him company—or at least, fake company anyway.

They weren't called 'Antis' for nothing. They were born from everything a person wasn't. They _were_ everything a person wasn't, and therein lay the tragedy in Riku keeping company with one. When an Anti was born it had the mentality of a child. The first logical train of thought it would have would be, "Master has created me, so Master knows best."

But…Riku knew better. The Anti would be at his beck and call but it would _learn_. It would think for itself, begin to acquire traits and character, and because of the nature of its birth, become the complete opposite of the person it had originally been spawned off of. The first Anti-Sora had been like this; it had still done whatever he'd told it to do but it had carried out its tasks in such an angry manner. Riku had known that if he had let it develop any further the it would've stopped listening to him indefinitely.

Oh, it had been thrilling to kill his first one. Anti-Sora hadn't bled, but he had obtained wounds—the bruises and cuts were impossible to see, but they were there—and it was obvious that the being was in pain, screaming his artificial lungs out. But he didn't _bleed_. In that one instant Riku had hated him with all the hate he could muster; that _thing_, so _unlike_ Sora. He couldn't stand to keep company with something that was everything Sora wasn't.

He slashed and slashed, his sword biting into hat_ creature_ , that creature he didn't want to exist, with its angry desire and dark intentions. The screams were wonderful…until Riku actually _looked_ at his prey. As he made to strike the finishing blow, in that one second where the blade made contact with the imitation's pitch black skin, Riku noticed the look of absolute hurt on the Anti's face and in that moment, Riku wanted to stop. But the damage was done. As the Anti's last few seconds ticked by Riku felt ashamed and pathetic, as his creation sat huddled in the corner he had backed it into.

Because no matter how angry either of them had been, such an act as this between master and servant, creator and the created, was the single worst act of betrayal. Soul Eater had clattered to the ground. Anti-Sora had drawn his last breath, ragged and wavering, like the breath of a small child who had been crying very hard. But just as he hadn't been able to shed blood, he also could not shed tears, There was a certain satisfying aspect of watching him fade away, disintegrating back into formless shadow, but at the same time it was heart breaking. It didn't help that each time he killed one after that, the physical likeness of Sora became more and more etched into their features.

This particular Anti-Sora just stood there, as if unsure of what to do, his eyes wide and locked onto Riku's. In seconds the boy was off the floor and in front of the Sora incarnation. Roughly he reached out and took hold of the boy's upper arm, earning a gasp as he pulled upward to make him look up at him.

Riku leaned in close, observing fear in the Anti's eyes as he whispered, "I'm going to have to kill you soon."

Before Riku knew what he was doing his hand was leaving Anti-Sora's arm and moving onto his hoodie, both hands gripping onto the fabric, fingers clenched underneath where the hood and the shirt met. The Anti felt himself going on tiptoe to accommodate Riku's upward movements, and before he could even utter a sound of protest his lips were captured in his master's.

The kiss was crude and harsh from the very start, their mouths warming the other's immensely, wet and intense. Riku's hands pulled towards his chest, pressing their bodies closer so there was practically no space between them at all. The resemblance of the Anti and the actual Sora was almost remarkable; the intense blue eyes, the rosy, pinkish cheeks, even Sora's sun softened hair…this Riku dug his fingers into as his other hand made a trail down from Anti-Sora's hood and down across his back to hold him better. His lips were soft too…were Sora's this soft? Tentatively Riku began to suck on the lower one, his captive taking a sharp intake of breath as a result. When he bit down a little less than gently, the younger boy whimpered a little.

He could feel Anti-Sora's hands on his chest, powerless and trapped between their bodies, so closely pressed together…

Then the dam holding back all of his logical sense broke loose—just up and snapped to pieces. With it came a rush of new and sudden emotions, coursing through out him and intertwining with the multiple feelings he'd already been trying to sort out, swirling into his stomach and making him dizzy. The shock was so bad that at first Riku didn't know what to think about first. But then he did think of something: laughter. Sora's laughter, the _real_ Sora. In the void of black that was his thoughts an image appeared—Sora smiling vibrantly and alive. The figure laughed again and then turned, running off into a sprint, just like he did whenever they raced…only he wasn't coming back; Sora's retreating figure faded into the dark, far-off recesses of his thoughts. His lips stilled…

_'This kiss…'_

This cheap kiss…this _fake_ kiss…

Riku felt the boy in his arms shiver against him, scared, and Riku felt dirty for taking advantage of the poor thing. It wasn't Anti-Sora's fault he was what he was; if anyone's it was Riku's, first and foremost. He pulled back from the Anti's lips and then pulled the Anti's head gently onto his shoulder, where he proceeded to sob. Riku took this moment to come to terms with himself.

So…he had feelings for Sora. Was that right? It didn't _feel_ right—but it wasn't because both he and Sora were both boys. No, he was perfectly at peace with the idea of two people of the same sex being in love, because as someone had once told him, love had no gender or age. (1) It was because he didn't think he had the _right_ to love _anyone_ at all. What good did he deserve?

And _why_ couldn't it have been anyone but Sora? There wasn't a person on earth he couldn't feel more guilty for loving. _Why_ Sora? Riku tried to soothe himself by consoling Anti-Sora, whispering words of comfort into his ear, telling him it was going to be alright betweens shushes, the crying eventually ceasing.

…Wait. Riku grasped the boy by the shoulders again and separated themselves to look at him, the other boy's tear-streaked face showing confusion.

Tears?

_Tears_?!

There weren't supposed to be _tears_. It was just simply a fact: an Anti could not cry. He couldn't have gotten so good at making them that he'd actually produced one that could _cry_…or maybe he had?

But no, now that he was thinking about it, Anti-Sora had been acting a little, well…unAnti-ish (2). For one, he had resisted Riku's coming ons. An Anti was loyal to his master, and would go along with anything his master wanted, whether or not he understood whatever that was, so long as he wasn't old enough to have rebellious thoughts. And that was another thing that bothered Riku: if this Anti was as young as he suspected it to be, he shouldn't have even _had_ as much personality and individuality as Riku presently saw in him, and even if he did, he would've been screaming madly, enraged, not quivering with fear. He searched the Anti's eyes for even the slightest glimmer of an answer, blue, sparkling, and water filled. And then it clicked.

Slowly, in the manner of one who had done something vile and just now realized how awful they've been, he pulled away from the boy in front of him.

"Sora?"

Sora. The _real_ Sora. Not a shadow, or an imitation, but the actual, living, breathing _Sora_. Standing before him with his lips terribly swollen and his eyes hazy with unreadable emotion, his hair tousled and his jacket pooling around his exposed shoulders, he was almost—if it's worth mentioning—adorable. And at that moment nobody felt more wretched about themselves as Riku did.

What had he just _done_? Well that was obvious—something rash and _stupid_. Half of him was hoping that Sora would become very mad with him, and the other half was really hoping he would just somehow forget what had just happened. And some small part of him was hoping it was just a very bad dream.

Then something unexpected happened and Riku almost flinched in surprise: a hand, its touch warm and soft, found its way onto his chest.

There was Sora, his face set in something that looked like determination, yet reflecting an air of exhaustion, as if for some time he'd been trying to hide how tired he was. His fingers curled around the fabric of Riku's shirt, almost as Riku himself had done, but carefully and with a slight hesitance. Sora took a step closer, and in a moment that made Riku's heart swell up, Sora gently placed his head just below Riku's neckline. His hair tickled Riku's collarbone and chin as Sora nuzzled against the older boy, snuggling and settling into his frame.

"I missed you too, Riku."

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(1) Ah, sorry Carinne. Couldn't help putting that in. Everyone, that quote belongs to Carinne, so don't steal it! D:  
Neriede: -/-smacks me on the ehad-/- So what's it called when you do it?  
Me: ehehe...-/-sweatdrop-/-

(2) That is the strangest word I've ever seen...Ha, ha Anti-Anti...X3

At this point I'd usually be begging you to critique and be harsh, but (for the first time ever actually, I think…) I'm requesting that you refrain from overly critiquing. Just mainly ones on my plot ideas/flow. Or throw philosophical ponderings you came up with while reading this. Honestly, I love those just as equally as, if not more than, critiques. The reason for this is because this is really old work. I merely retyped it from the notebook it was in, making only _minor _adjustments where I couldn't help it. But other than that, I don't feel this reflects my current writing flair, so not that many critiques will do me any good. If you can come up with ones that still benefit me either way, go ahead. I'd greatly appreciate it.

Just for your general information, I _was_ thinking about a companion fic to this one, back when I'd just finished it. It would've been just the same story-line, just from Sora's perspective, with a little more at the beginning and at the end, explaining just _why_ he was at Hollow Bastion in the first place. Since I'm not going to write it, I'll let you know here: Sora was checking up on all the worlds to make sure they were indeed restored and safe, before the invisible walls between them went back up. Hollow Bastion was the last stop, and seeing the keyhole fizzing and whatnot, he decided to check it out. Bla bla bla, you know the rest.

Alright, enough of my rambling. You've suffered through my writing long enough—review:D


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